


Shield and Sword

by by_veidt



Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Analingus, Ass Play, BDSM, Belts, Blood and Injury, Came So Hard He Passed Out, Choking, Comfort, Cop Fetish, Dirty Talk, Doctor - Freeform, Dom/sub, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Morality, Endorphin Shock, Face Slapping, Gags, Groping, Handcuffs, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Consent, Leather, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Prostate Milking, Restraints, Unconsciousness, Whipping, breath play, police officer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/by_veidt/pseuds/by_veidt
Summary: A surgeon seeks escape from his decline in life enjoyment from his ready and willing partner--he's always been unabashedly attracted to the uniform, and the cop puts it to good use. Follow the turmoil and transformation of their relationship as they work through figuring out who actually plays what role.





	1. By the Book

**Author's Note:**

> A short story I've been working on that's turning into a long story. Here's some of it for your viewing pleasure. Constructive crit is welcome. It's still very raw, but I'll probably post more of it.  
> To any of my other work fans, I apologize for devoting my little free time to this instead, but I'll be bouncing between them.
> 
> This story and these characters are mine.

The vehicle pulled to a slow stop, the bass backbeat of the song felt like it could move the auto by vibration alone. It had been a long day of bureaucracy in the hospital and the surgeon's otherwise empty driveway was a sour end to an already aggravating day. He had been counting on at least seeing his boyfriend in passing, but that would mean this day would still have a silver lining. The emergency room was no place for a neurosurgeon, yet people still seem to find some way to inflict catastrophic damage to themselves in seemingly implausible ways. Three surgeries and two meetings and the man had to run his hand through his medium length, golden blonde hair to make sure he hadn't pulled it all out. This was the life he wanted, though; the life he chose. He let out a deep breath, looking over to the cold, stone face of his house, grandiose and mocking at times, and he felt like one day it would just swallow him. It was after dark and no lights were on—it would look abandoned if he didn't know it's where he called home. 

He pressed the button near the steering column, the car interior lighting up and silence filling the cab. He felt like he still shook from the vibrations as he grabbed his soft leather briefcase. He didn't feel like garaging the car—maybe later—but it was going to be a clear night. He adjusted his jacket out of habit—it was dark blue and matched his slim cut slacks, their tailored fit clinging to his lean, but wide frame. His leather soled, chocolate nubuck derbys clopped against the smooth pavement, small bits of gravels grinding under a step every so often. He reached for his door as his proximity lock engaged, pushing through the deceptively old-looking door. He kicked the door closed behind him and paused; the lights didn't turn on. He set his briefcase on the doorside table, features tightening as he reasoned that his partner had absentmindedly turned the motion-sensor switch off. 

As he stepped further into the dark house he reached out for where he approximated the switch was, wrist apprehended and body pinned to the wall with a hard smack. Cold metal bit into his wrist and then the other before he could thrash free from the handcuffs, metal rattling as the chain pulled taut. The blonde threw a shoulder back to no avail, hand lodged against his shoulder blade as it held him against the smooth tile of the wall. His cheek stung, soothed only slightly by the chill of the stone, and he could feel his breath condensing on the surface in front of him. Nimble hands worked his jacket sleeves up, removing the cufflinks from each shirt sleeve and pocketing them before shuffling the thick white fabric up a few inches. “I'm not really in the mood,” the doctor almost warned as plush leather brushed over one wrist, buckle tightening the cuff and soon the other. The biting metal loosened from his wrists, a firm, but gentle hand soothing over the marks. 

“But you know you want it,” came the low response, hand trailing up the back of one of the doctor's thigh until it settled on the curve of his ass, giving a possessive squeeze. “You know you need it,” the other man almost growled. 

The blonde hesitated because the other was right. “Aren't you supposed to be on duty?” was the only response he could manage, cock already flushing half-hard. He was spun around and pressed back against the wall by the other closing the space between them. The doctor's gaze leveled with the other's as the darker featured man stared up at him from beyond the brim of his navy blue, multi-point cap, predatory as his auburn eyes glistened in the very pale light of the moon outside that streamed from the far window. His uniform was tight fitting and almost obscene in how it showed off the officer's athletic form. He was several inches shorter than the doctor, but it never dissuaded him. His hard facial features were accentuated by the low light, clean shaven like the doctor, but stubble darkened his olive skin.

“I'm working a case right now,” he grinned, palm pressing against the form solidifying under the pressed fabric of the doctor's pants. The blonde's eyelids fluttered slightly with the pressure, waning his already weak objections. And the officer was quick to notice, leaning back as his eyes prowled over the other's groin as his hand slid along the hardening length. “And you can't resist the uniform.” Right again. Dark eyes darted up to the other's, taking note of the surgeon's full and parted lips as his breath came quicker. The officer offered a half laugh before stepping back and indicating the floor with a nod. He could see the taller man's eyes narrow slightly, unmoving save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. The officer's lips pursed for a moment as he waited for the other, huffing an amused noise out before pinching into the other's shoulder and pushing him to his knees. “You can be difficult...” he suggested indifferently, “but I always get what I want,” he smirked, unfastening his belt and fly as he leered down at the man, admiring the way his hair so quickly fell out of place, softer facial structure softened more by the way the moonlight diffused over the smoothness of his skin. His look was the officer's ideal cocksucking pet, eyes bright and round as he stared up with an indiscernible expression. He tested his binds behind his back briefly, waiting as the other withdrew himself with a half groan, hand sliding once up and down the shaft before he leveled it with the doctor's lips. “Say 'aah',” he smirked, pushing into the startlingly hot wetness as he parted his lips for the officer, closing his eyes as the thick flesh pressed his tongue down while it tried to curl up against the sensitive skin. “Oh, fuck, babe,” he moaned lowly, fingers threading through the soft blonde locks as he pushed him further down his length. He pulled back when he felt the man's throat clench around him, pushing back in just as slowly, head falling back as he guided himself through several more long thrusts. The doctor's eyes opened slowly as he felt saliva begin to trail down the corner of his mouth, the wet suction echoing through the otherwise still corridor. His eyes flickered up to see the officer intently watching him with an almost hidden adoration, a smirk tightening the doctor's lips as he closed his eyes again. The fingers tightened in the golden strands, pulling him forward and drawing a muffled moan out of the doctor, the vibrations causing the officer's cock to twitch as he pressed himself flush with the surgeon's mouth, reveling in the feeling of his throat tightening again as he gagged. He withdrew as the doctor fought to pull away, the echo of the wet slurp making the cop shudder. “Fuck, you're too good at that.”

He stuffed himself back into his pants, pulling the other up by the back of his suit, the tear trails down the doctor's face catching the light for just a moment and filling him with a smugness.“Easy with the Burberry,” the surgeon growled as he gazed down his nose to the other. 

“Or what?” He gave the doctor a hard shove to the chest, watching as the man bounced off the wall before settling against it. The man in blue stepped in, hand working the suit jacket buttons open. He leaned forward, speaking into the inches between them. “I think I liked it better with my cock down your throat.” 

“Then why am I standing?”

The officer huffed a laugh, shoving the jacket off the doctor's shoulders. “Because I'd like to end up balls deep in your ass.”

The surgeon felt a heat rise in his cheeks and under his collar, cock throbbing between them. The officer gave a smug smile, and the blonde couldn't see it so much as feel it. “You gonna behave?” the officer goaded, finger tugging at the other's waistline. 

The doctor almost rolled his eyes as he looked off towards the back of the house, trying to formulate an answer that carried the same weight as spitting in his face. Before he knew it he was facing the wall, a hard boot to the back of his weaker knee dropping him, eased down only by the tight grip the officer had on the leather cuffs. The doctor let out a stifled groan as the pain spread up to his hips, reconsidering having hardwood floors. He felt the slide of boot toe down his spine as it settled against the cuffchain, bowing him back as the other pressed down, baton now snug under the doctor's jaw. He tested the tension there, no give offered, and rather earned a harder pull, the surgeon struggling to swallow. “I think you might be taking your job too seriously,” he rasped, but his even tone belied the pounding in his chest. He could feel the adrenaline pour into his senses, hear his pulse in his ears, and the almost resentful interest of his cock as it strained against his briefs. He almost didn't hear the jingle of the small buckle just behind him. The baton pulled him back against the knee on the back of his neck, eliciting a cough from the man and the opportunity for the silicone ball to be shoved between his teeth. His light panting seemed loud now as he struggled to pull air in through his nose and through the small holes of the ball. The clack of the weapon hitting the floor made him tighten more, biting against the gag as it was pulled taut in his mouth, the rubbery texture of the bands that held it rubbing into the corners of his mouth. 

“Don't want to wake the neighbors,” the officer whispered as he leaned down, replacing his boot with a hand around the cuffs. It was a mocking comment—the closest neighbors were at least a mile away—but it distracted the doctor long enough to be complicity hauled to his feet, scrambling to find his footing before being walked to the table opposite the front door, oak and empty and just below hip level. A hand between his shoulder blades guided him down onto it, other hand hiking the tails of the jacket up, exposing the tight and round curve of the doctor's ass that look so neat and so licentious in those pressed and slightly shining suit pants. The familiar jostle of the officer's belt buckle echoed off the high ceilings, the slide of the leather along the rough fabric belt loops causing the surgeon to look back over his shoulder, eyes dark and as threatening as he could manage, but the officer just gave a quiet chuckle. “You should have behaved,” he almost shrugged, looping the belt over in view of the surgeon. “Do you have any meetings tomorrow?” The doctor paused before closing his eyes and nodding. “Good.” 

The officer ran his other hand gently up the back of the man's thigh and over his ass, gripping the bunched up material at his hip before cracking the belt over his right cheek. The doctor bucked into the desk, biting back a cry as his head whipped forward. Another sharp crack in the air, and the surgeon sobbed in another breath, the biting sensation clawing up his spine, sweat already prickling his face as he felt tears well in the corners of his eyes. The loop of the belt tenderly traced along the wounds just under the thin fabric before another whack. The officer tossed the belt to his other hand, the other giving a ginger squeeze to the welted skin. He stepped back and saw the doctor brace, laughing inwardly as he watched the man tremble slightly, balls of his feet barely planting his spread legs to the floor, and every time the officer moved, he could see the doctor react; a hitch in his straining breaths, muscles in this legs drawing up tight, wrists pulling against their restraints. He crossed his arm across his body and waited—waited for the perfect moment when his partner's body would relax. He was being good by staying, but he wanted to make sure he'd stay in line. And his moment came when the man couldn't keep himself tight anymore, the crack of the belt the only sound in the house for a fraction of a moment, the gag muffled scream that followed causing a slow-burn ache to throb in the officer's groin. 

“Are you gonna behave?” Another smack and muted cry and the doctor nodded. “Are you gonna answer me when I talk to you?” After the next smack it took a few moments for the man to nod. “Are you gonna talk back to me?” A final bite of the leather over the same fresh welts drew a choking, but exhausted noise, head shaking slowly. The belt flopped against him a few times, the muscle under twitching, body quivering from the endorphin rush. The officer leaned forward and pulled the gag strap tighter, opening the fastening and dropping the bind open, gag dropping to the table with a heavy bounce. The surgeon took in wet gasps, small noises dappling his breaths as he tried to slow his heart rate, focus zeroed in on the searing lashes across his backside. The officer pushed his hips against the other, cock flushed solid as it pressed between them, a quieted whine spilling between the harsh breaths. The cop reached his hands around the other's waist, taking long moments to unfasten his belt and subsequently his pants. He gripped the shape of the solid shaft under the clothes, the doctor unable to fight a startled moan, rolling his hips forward into the touch.

The officer slipped his thumbs under the waistline of the doctor's briefs, careful to slide them down without touching the rouge marks that marred the creamy white flesh underneath. He left them hitched on the middle of the surgeon's thighs, fingertips sliding back up and admiring the raises in the wounded skin, owner flinching away. He smirked at the reaction, hand trailing between his legs until it wrapped around the smooth, thick length that hung between them, a few firm strokes easing him back into the table. The cop kneeled slowly, hands ghosting down the backs of the other's legs, teasing the ridges of his socks along the center of his calves, otherwise unnoticed under the pants. His hands cupped up under the join of buttocks to leg, thumbs spreading him open and stroking along the perfectly smooth skin with a smile. He could feel the man shift slightly, uneasiness threatening his obedience. He stretched his jaw, tongue lathing a hot, flat, and dripping slick trail across the tight ring of muscle, savoring the way the doctor squirmed. He loved the delicate almond flower scent that mingled with the taste of the doctor's skin, tonguing him again to feel him tense and relax. 

The raw sting of the wounds began to numb, breath leveling to a slow pant, small hitches in his breath filling the room. His thoughts were breaking down, higher cognition escaping him, and that was exactly as it was supposed to go. He shuddered as the officer's tongue delved into him, dropping his head to the table with a quiet moan. The thumbs kneaded into the tight muscle, mouth sealing over him as his tongue slithered in farther, causing a small noise and another slight squirm. 

The doctor didn't hear the officer move, but moreso felt the sudden chill of his absence. He let out a startled yelp as the officer yanked him upright by the cuffs, a tight and biting pain resonating in his shoulders. He could feel the shorter man's breath on the nape of his neck, hand sliding up the plain of his abdomen and burying under his layers of shirts. He could feel the firm press of the cop's hardness through his trousers as it burned against his marks, flinching away as he smothered a short hiss. “Mm... mia bella medico,” he purred softly as he buried his face into the short hairs that crept up the back of the doctor's head. “I can't wait to hear you scream.” The gravelly roll of his tone made the doctor's cock twitch, hand wrapping around the base and giving a slow stroke. “My cock buried in your ass.” He laid a tender kiss at the base of the man's skull. “Filling you.” The doctor could feel his face burning, swallowing as the images fluttered around his mind, hand on him giving a firm squeeze. “Maybe I'll fuck you again, slick with my cum, because you'll want it. You want that? You want me to fuck you again after I've used you?” The doctor hesitantly nodded, earning a grind against him, a small whimper escaping him. “What was that?”

“Yes,” he corrected, trying to bring his voice above a whisper. The officer made no noise as he stepped back, jingling the buckle in his hand. “Yes, sir,” he corrected again, shoulders hunching as he braced for the hit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuing the first chapter, it kind of blips ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this kind of picks up a bit later from the first part. I haven't added anything for a while to this because it's all out of order of the series of progression, but I guess I'll just put it up and if anything is heinously confusing, or great, please feel free to let me know. It's sitting at about 47k words in the file, so I'll figure out what I want to put up and whatnot as it goes.  
> And thank you for the kudos. : )

He pressed two slick fingers into him, body clenching around him and forcibly relaxing. He jolted with a broken gasp when they curled up, fingerpads tracing the perimeter of the gland as it swelled. “You act like a virgin every time. Does being at work make you forget what a greedy slut you are?”

“Perhaps you're just that good,” he sighed, adjusting himself so his hands weren't digging into his back quite as much. A firm press within him caused his back to arch up with a low groan, the comforter stinging as it moved along his backside. He could feel the all to familiar flush creep up his neck and face, burning like the ache in his loins that spilled into his blood and up his spine. Those firm, but tender strokes of fingertip in him, the press and release of muscle opening him more, and it melted away his apprehensions and doubts. He spent so much time mentally brawling for control throughout the day and maintaining his stalwart reputation he had forgotten what it was like to surrender to something—his partner was doing an excellent job of reminding him, and he had made the consequences otherwise very clear. He felt himself involuntarily tighten, writhing under his touch as he methodically stroked him. The surgeon let out a startled gasp as the officer's tongue spread hot and wet up the underside of his length, a gentle moan following. Lips sealed over the head, tongue flicking down across the soft collection of nerves, The doctor's breath came shorter, eyes closing as he lost focus to the sensation, fingers meticulously prodding, tongue so nimble in its ability to pry his seams apart.

Another languid moan as the officer drew his tongue up the line of the other's cock, viscous liquid spilling from the tip and down the shaft. His hips cantered up, more fluid dripping down to his stomach, breaths coming fuller as the officer milked him, more spilling out with each rhythmic pulse of his cock in time with the pressure on his prostate. “Oh my god...” His hand balled into fists under his back, lips parted as he panted into the cold air, body thrumming as the fluid cooled against his skin and heat pooled in his groin. A startled gasp strung his body taut as the cop's mouth slid down over the surgeon's thickness, hips jarring up.

He pulled back, lips resting just under the ridge of the head. “You remember what we worked on?”

The doctor's brow furrowed, coming back down to the immediate space. “I don't think I can.”

“I'm not giving you the option,” he replied lowly, his tone surprisingly matter-of-fact. He tongued his way up the doctor's leaking cock, fingers thrusting a quicker pace now, a heated cry punctuating the quieted and rhythmic wet slide and labored breathing.

“Hn...slower. Please. Sir.” He pleaded, adding each word as if he were just remembering they existed because that's how it felt, but if he was going to do this successfully he need to be at least be given a fighting chance. And the officer complied, fingers curling more and drawing more intense pressure in the man. He moaned low and long, head leading his shoulders back further into the comforter, and the cop couldn't help but smile—grin really. There were few things in life he enjoyed nearly as much as unraveling this man, and the way he pleaded and the sounds he made were so delicious. He had to make serious compromises with his will power to keep from fucking him through the mattress at this point. His tongue played up and around the man's slick cock, enjoying the delicate taste of the fluid, watching him for imminent signs of climax. And as his leg grew tight in his grasp, he knew he was close, one final draw of the tongue seeming almost too much. “Oh, fuck, Jamie,” he almost prayed, body shuddering as he fought to maintain the ideal level of control of his body, orgasm crashing through him hard enough to make him lightheaded while his cock twitched and produced nothing. He was arched away from his hands, the bite of his wounds negligible in the rush of sensation, breath caught in his throat for a moment before heavy pants punctuated with keening noises broke free, filling the quiet of the room.

The doctor felt the other move, presence looming over him momentarily as the officer looked him over. He looked completely undone, and the blonde could feel it in that pause as the man's eyes prowled him. The surgeon's eyes were closed, brow still knit tight, locks of hair clinging to his forehead, lips barely parted and puffy as he breathed. His jacket was halfway down his arms, oxford spilled around him, once smooth undershirt now bunched up just under his ribs, wrinkled and damp, chest rising and falling more dramatically with his arms trapped and bound under him. His skin had an even sheen on it in the minimal light, the rises and dips of his abdomen particularly defined, the pool of glassy liquid filling in the grooves and rolling long lines over the horizon of his waist. His cock was still fully hard, a thin strand connecting the tip to his body.

A rush hit the doctor again as the other's hips pressed his thighs up, very hard and very slick cock pressing into him. A cautioning 'ah' spilled from him, sharp pain panging up his tailbone as the cop pressed further. He squirmed under him, trying to relax into the man's touch as his hands slid under the doctor's ass, lube soothing over the burning marks of one side. The officer's chest pressed to the other's, hips cantering forward and drawing back slowly. The doctor's cock throbbed between them, the pressure against his overstimulated nerves drawing a quiet moan from him as that familiar heat spilled up him. “You always feel so good,” the cop breathed against the man's chest, “You're so tight.”

“Nng...well, you're not particularly average,” the doctor panted, arching up against him. “Oh, fuck...” His shoulders pulled up, small mewls scattered among breaths. “Right there...please...ohh...” A shudder ran up him, the friction of the officer's uniform against his cock causing more liquid to stripe across the navy fabric.

“You like that, pretty boy?” The officer's gravelly tone trembled against the doctor's chest, cock pulsing again. He punctuated his sentence with a hard thrust, earning a small cry from the surgeon. He nodded, officer sliding almost completely out of him before slowly pushing back into the man. The cop's dry hand slid out from under him and up his body, fingers tracing up his neck and slithering under his jawline, thumb tracing over the man's lower lip. “Answer me properly.” The threat lingering in his tone was far from subtle, despite how affectionately he touched him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me what you like.”

The doctor hesitated, taking in several breaths, “I... I like when you cuff me... and fuck me,” he finally spoke quietly, surprised the words made it out of his mouth.

“Good boy,” he almost gleefully praised, “I should have whipped you ages ago. What else do you like?” He was testing his limit, and he knew that it made the doctor uncomfortable, but he wanted to see just how obedient he had become.

The man's brow furrowed deeper, another small moan following the cop's encouraging pace. “I like when you stretch and fill me with your thick cock.”

“Naughty boy,” the officer chided, nipping at the edge of his ribs through the white cotton. His other hand slipped out from under the tense curve of the doctor's beaten ass, palming a sticky trail up underneath the ribbed shirt and along his ribs, pressing his thumbpad over the surgeon's left nipple. The man let out a small gasp, cock pulsing against the officer. “Oh yeah?” he offered lowly laced with derision and curiosity, taking the raised flesh between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a less inhibited sound from the other. “I thought you didn't like that.”

“I didn't. Please, don't stop.” Another small twist and drag of his thumbpad and the doctor bucked up against him. “Ooh, sir.” And the officer had to drop his forehead to the man's chest for a moment, slowing his pace as he tried not to cum just then, closing his eyes for a moment as the sight and sound of his doctor taunted his memory while he fought with his body. He took in a deep breath, moving his hand so he could hike the shirt further up, shifting himself up, and deeper into the doctor as his lips sealed over his other nipple, the man letting out a desperate cry. He thrust into him deep and hard, one hand wrapped tight around the back of the surgeon's neck, other stable on the supple curve of the man's oblique, lips, tongue, and teeth latched onto the tender flesh as the blonde panted harsh and high-pitched keening noises into the cold and distant vaulted ceilings. They were coals in the cold hearth of his house, dark and alive, burning for nothing but each other. The officer touched his forehead to the man's chest, panting over him before his lower hand found his other, grip on the back of his neck firm as his pace quickened, a hoarse cry pulled from the doctor as he pounded in to him, the officer tensing as he fought orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for me,” he breathed, thumbs tracing the other's jaw just under his ear before moving down and tightening around his throat. The doctor took in quicker breaths as he strained against the force, peripheral vision growing dark as unconsciousness closed in. His features relaxed, and the cop could feel him grow more lax in his grip, lightning his grip just enough to keep him on the verge, watching his prey jolt under the impact of his hips as the man grew limp. “Fuck,” he whispered as climax hit him, thrusting through it as he spilled deep in his partner, the doctor's body snapping taut just seconds later as he came, blacking out and falling slack in the cop's grip, body rhythmically contracting as he fell from orgasm. The officer panted against the other's chest as the doctor's body quieted, hands absently kneading at the other's neck. He lifted his head, scanning his partner's condition as he lay unconscious.“Hey,” he said with a softness in his voice, patting the side of the man's face. He squeezed his face with his palm cupped under the doctor's jaw, moving it back and forth as he tried to rile him. The surgeon's eyelids fluttered as he blearily came to, blinking hard with a distance in his eyes. “You stained my uniform.” The blonde's eyes slowly found the other's, brow pinching to worry. “Do you know what that means?” The doctor moved his head back and fourth, panting with a gentle rasp. “You get to do my laundry,” he smiled, thumbing circles against the other's cheek, the doctor swallowing as he closed his eyes, relief washing over him as his mind became sharper. The officer shifted farther up, pulling the blonde into a soft kiss. “How are you feeling?” he asked quietly against the man's lips.

“I'm reevaluating my interest in that particular pursuit of pleasure.” He made a face at the alliteration and chuckled lightly.

“I can see you're not well,” he responded with mock seriousness.

“I'm perfectly well,” he slurred, tilting his head back, the cop taking advantage of his exposed neck to draw his tongue across it, lips sealing over several sections.

“Yea?” He tipped the man's jaw up further, kissing above his adam's apple. “What's the date today?”

“It could be today or tomorrow,” he mused, hushing a moan with his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth. “It's certainly not yesterday. Or is it?”

“Is it?”

“No. I wasn't handcuffed on the bed yesterday. Or was I? I was if it's tomorrow.”

The officer pushed himself up enough to look the other over for a moment before looking at his watch and pressing the backlight button: it read '00:02'. “It's tomorrow, but this conversation may have started yesterday.”

“Wait. What time is it?” The doctor was hit with a sobering dread as the fact that it was, in fact, tomorrow settled on him.

“Zero-two.”

“I have a meeting at seven,” he blurted with an increasing panic in his voice.

“Then you're going to be very tired.”

“Let me go.”

“Excuse me??” The officer lifted himself to illustrate the shock.

“I need to go to sleep.” The doctor struggled under the other, the officer's patience thinning and his aftercare reaching its limit. It became obvious to him quickly that he should have otherwise distracted the other, or lied to him. The doctor had wrapped his leg around the darker featured man, throwing what he could of his weight to the side and successfully catching the other off balance enough for them to sloppily tumble to a position that left the blonde on top of the other.

“If that's how you want it...” the officer spoke low and dark, one hand grabbing hold of the cuff-chain, other gripped over the doctor's neck, thrusting up into him as his cock flushed solid from it's only slightly less firmness. The cum-slicked motion made the doctor tremble with a quieted moan as he tried to escape, successfully writhing himself off the man. The officer shot up, leaning over the other as he pulled his body off the bed by his shirt lapels, startling the doctor with his sheer strength. “You want a fight...?” He dropped him, the surgeon's body bouncing once off the bed. He grabbed at the wet undershirt, stretching it up the blonde's body, shoving it between his lips before he could react. “Oh, baby, am I going to fuck you up.”

The doctor's eyes were fierce as he spit the fabric out, shoulders hunched forward as he postured at the cop, the officer huffing with patronizing amusement before he turned, stepping across the room to grab his belt that he had laid on the dresser. He heard the shift in the bed, turning as the doctor struggled to stand, succeeding. The officer squared up with him, looking over his work, and he was quite the sight, and the mess. “This is the part where you drop to your knees and beg for mercy,” the officer gave a lopsided smile, stepping in close, tone warning and insisting.

“This is the part where I spit in your face,” the doctor responded candidly, tenseness in his chest obvious in his voice. The other's mouth curled into a broad and wicked smile, looking down and off for half a moment before he backhanded the other hard enough to cause him to stumble to the side, a hard boot to the hip landing the doctor against the edge of the bed and subsequently the floor with a loud thud. The officer wasted no time, rolling him on to his stomach with his foot, fingers threading through those wet, dark gold strands of hair, yanking him up to his knees and earning a rebellious cry. The man panted as the cop lowered himself to just over the surgeon's shoulder.

“You _will_ obey me,” he whispered, standing and urging him up, shoving him to his stomach on the bed. “Shame I have to mar that pretty ass.” The crack came just before he finished his sentence, emphasizing the word with the force of the swing. And the doctor couldn't force the scream that locked up in his chest, body trying to curl in to itself. Swift hands pulled his legs out straight by the ankles, kneeling on his calves before laying into him with the stiff leather. “You are mine.” Whack. “I own you.” Whack. “I tell you when you sleep.” Whack. “When you eat. When you breathe.” He slid his knees to either side of the other's legs, shuffling himself forward, grabbing the cuffs, and yanking the doctor's body back so that his hips pushed up. He spit in his hand, reslicking his cock before shoving himself into the tight spasm of the surgeon who's bitter whimper was consumed by the comforter. The officer grabbed the belt again, leaning forward and sliding one end under the blonde's neck, threading it through the buckle and pulling it tight. He leaned his weight on the center of the doctor's back, thumb just under the cuff-chain, yanking the belt back and forcing the man's head up with an audible choke. He lowered his head near the surgeon's, voice just above a whisper. “That I gave you the impression otherwise was an oversight and one that will not be repeated.” He rolled his hips against the doctor's ass, the tacky smear of blood cooling against the cop's hip. He slid out and pressed back in slowly. Admiring the way the man tensed under him, breath coming with a wet crackle as he strained against the belt. “You _are_ beautiful, though.” He developed a slow, deep rhythm in the man, letting out a tight breath as he watched the surgeon submit to him. The more the surgeon relaxed, the less he pulled on the belt, tired whines dappling the doctor's panting. The officer let the belt fall to the side, leaning back and bracing his hands against the other's hips, encouraging him down just enough to cause a pleading push from the man, weak moan following. “Good boy--,” he cooed, hands sliding up the doctor's body and down to the bed on either side of his waist, groaning from the angle change while his partner tightened around him.

Some time had passed, the officer mulling over their transaction, pausing for a moment as he came to an unfortunate realization. “Adrian,” he said calmly, but clearly, the other offering no response. “Shit,” he whispered, sitting up and sliding out of him, shoving himself back into his pants. He reached for the cuffs, unfastening the buckles and sliding the damp leather binds from his wrists, tossing them to the bed. The doctor's arms slid to his sides, and the officer set his index finger against his left upturned palm, pressing down twice—no response. He swallowed, rolling the man over slowly, laying him on his back and pulling his pinned arm out from under him. His eyes were open, but not looking at anything in particular, breath slow. The cop set a fond hand on the man's neck, noting the clammy chill of his damp skin. “You're alright. You were so well behaved, and you made me very happy.” He ran the back of his hand down the surgeon's face, the man closing his eyes purposefully. He could see his partner's chest trembling, setting his other hand against it gently before laying down next to him, slowly navigating his arm under the doctor's head, pulling the lax body against him with the other and holding him there. The doctor's head lulled into the crook of the officer's neck, breath growing steadier. The officer strained to reach over the other's body, but succeeded in grabbing the comforter, pulling it up enough to grab more until he could pull it over them. He laid a gentle kiss into the man's cold hair, hand resting on the doctor's hip while his fingers moved gently in their place.

The officer ran his hand slowly up and down the doctor's side, warming his body, absentmindedly doing small comforting gestures—straightening the man's clothes, adjusting his hair, petting his face. The surgeon's eyes opened slowly, following the seam of the officer's collar with his eyes before letting out a slow, but heavy breath. “I don't know if I want to do that again.”

“That's fine, babe. Whatever you need. We don't have to do anything.”

“You misunderstand me.” He swallowed, closing his eyes. “I don't want to go into endorphin shock—I didn't think I could get there. My apologies.”

“It's fine, you're fine. We'll just take it easy, okay?”

“Easy...” he mused quietly, a smile in his voice.

“Yea, easy.”

“Does this mean you're not going to finish fucking me?” He snaked a hand up the officer's body, fingers burying under his shirt between the buttons.

He gently grabbed the other's hand, preventing it from roaming further. “That's exactly what that means.”

“Pity.” He nuzzled his face into the officer's neck, licking at him.

“We can't.”

“We _can_ do whatever we want,” he grinned, fingers trailing over the form of the officer's cock in his trousers.

“Come on... easy, remember?”

“I am being easy. Don't you want me easy...sir?” His voice was gentle, slurred, and far too seductive for his current situation—the officer had to admire his tenacity. The doctor had almost successfully navigated himself on top of the cop before the man slipped out from under him with a tired and final 'okay'. He stood and turned to watch the blonde who had settled in a prone position, one leg cocked to the side, arms folded under his chest as his shirt and jacket pulled at his arms. He was watching the other man with a glazed look—an intoxicated jaguar. And the cop chuckled, walking over to the dresser and picking up the bar of dark chocolate and bottle of water. He turned back and the other was closer, maintaining the same position, but closer to the edge of the bed. The officer cocked an eyebrow, strafing in his step as he sauntered back to the other, watching his eyes track him. He peeled back the paper wrapper from the bar, then the foil and broke a small piece off, gently feeding it through the man's parted lips. The doctor's eyes never left his gaze as he pressed the piece to the roof of his mouth, tongue idling on it, knowing the officer could see it in the way his jaw shifted. “Good boy,” the cop smiled, savoring his gentleness for the time being. Repose was a rare sight in the man, and it suited him nicely, and for the moment it was the most comforting thing the dark haired man could have seen from the other. He offered another piece of chocolate, the other parting his lips slowly and taking the piece in just as gingerly as before.

“Would you like some water?”

The blonde nodded, pushing himself up until he was able to settle back on his knees, wincing as his wounds pressed against his calves. The officer unscrewed the bottle top purposefully, eyes stealing a glance back at the other as he patiently sat near the edge of the bed. He set the cap and chocolate down on the bed as he stepped forward, now free hand sliding against the other's jaw until his fingers settled against his neck, thumb laid under and against his chin, tilting the doctor's head back while he guided his mouth open. He set the edge of the bottle against the man's lower lip, pouring a small stream of water into the doctor's mouth. He swallowed once, collecting a significant amount of water in his mouth before sealing his lips, the officer pulling the bottle back before it spilled down his front. The surgeon leveled his head, smirking with cheeks full of water. The officer briefly glanced up from recapping the bottle. “Don't,” he warned, watching the cap tighten completely before a short trickle of water hit his arm. He turned towards the other, flinching as he was showered with a burst of water. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away what moisture he could as his internal dialogue reminded him that he couldn't touch him; it would be irresponsible and morally reprehensible. He didn't want to hurt him—well, he didn't want to retaliate—but it was so hard to get him to the point of playful that it just made him want to fuck him until the only comprehensible action the doctor could muster was unintelligible sounds of pleasure and exhaustion. The cop rolled his shoulders, taking in a deep breath and sighing heavily. “You're not getting your way,” he stated with a sternness that was eroded by the glimmer of amusement in his voice. He made a surprised noise when the doctor yanked him down onto the bed, pinning him to his back as he straddled the cop.

“Then I'll just have to take it from you,” he growled, teeth bared in a demonic grin, strands of diluted saliva running down to the officer's neck and face.

“Adrian. I'm serious. It would be unethical. Remember that thing—ethics? You're supposed to be a paragon of them?” He tensed as the doctor ran his tongue along his neck, chasing and smearing lines of spit along his skin and up along his face. He smelled like chocolate and sex, and the officer imagined this must be what running across an incubus is like—his doctor was too alluring and too wanting. No resistance or person left, just the hypersexualized creature he had molded him into in this moment. A strangled groan choked him for a moment when a hand closed firm around his the straining shape of his cock beneath the fabric wall of his pants, hands reaching up to grab at the blonde's upper arms. “Adrian...”

“I'm not resisting, _officer_.” The draw of his zipper seemed too slow, but moments later he felt like it hadn't happened at all and the wet slide of his stiff length against the cleft of the doctor's ass sudden and surprising left him paralyzed by his want and weakness. The doctor rolled his hips and bared down on the intrusion, a quiet gasp parting his lips, chased by a startled 'ah' when the officer bucked up into him, hands painfully tight around the man's hips as he seated himself into him as deep as he would go.

“God, this is so wrong,” he breathed, holding the man against him when he tried to move just so he had a moment to at least try to reason himself out of this, but he knew it was too late. That sweltering heat around him just pulled him in, the nefarious satisfaction in the doctor's eyes drawing his soul out of his body. He fought a groan as the doctor slid his hands along his partner's chest, resting his forearms against him as he leaned down, lips just against his jaw.

“There is no God that will save you,” he whispered, tongue lathing across the spot where his breath fell hot. “Let me corrupt you, valiant knight.” He cantered his hips up, sinking back down on to the cop's length with a heady moan against his neck, smiling when the man's body went tense again, fingers pressing harder into his skin. “Oh, yes... give me your temperance.” He rolled his hips again, watching the torment wash over the officer's face from the corner of his eye, nipping at his jaw as he moved again. They both knew it was a bad idea, and certainly dubious, and the officer couldn't seem to reconcile the doctor's blatant want with his very recent condition—he couldn't consent, could he? Did it matter? He was already fucking him, but not entirely by his volition.

“Adrian. Docto—” He was cut off by a hand sliding over his mouth, the man sitting up with his other hand splayed over the officer's chest as he rose and fell on his cock again, quirking an eyebrow when the officer closed his eyes hard and opened them again, an unfamiliar look in them that the doctor wasn't sure he had ever seen—it almost looked like fear. He dropped his hips hard against the man, watching each muscle group bunch up his body as he tried not to thrust up into him. The officer's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, breath hot against the doctor's hand as he strained to pant through his nose.

The doctor rose and fell on him, resistance on his hips waning, and he smiled down at the man, lips parted as he breathed into the chilled air, watching the cop's eyes grow darker as he rode him slowly, hand rising and falling on his chest, fingers sinking in to his mouth when he finally had to open to take fuller breaths. The doctor slid his middle and ring finger across the cop's tongue, eyes fixated on each other in shared hypnosis. “Good boy...” the doctor just about sang, low and velvety, sinking deep into the power he held over this man, waiting for that stalwart facade to crumble—just a few more cracks.

The officer closed his eyes again, corners of his mouth curling, the doctor's brow lofting momentarily, eyes widening as the man sat up, settling the surgeon on his lap, saliva coated fingers grabbing the man's shoulder for balance. His eyelids lifted heavily, pupil-blown stare transfixing the blonde, drawing him into a gentle kiss that melted into tongue and the lingering flavor of earthy chocolate. The doctor moaned gently against him, lips melting back together before the officer pulled back slightly. “You're a very bad boy,” he chastised softly.

“And what do you plan to do about that?”

“Punish you, clearly. But what to do...”

“I'm sure you can conjure something.” He moved in for another kiss, denied the opportunity as the cop leaned back.

“And what if I decided to just get up and leave?”

“I wouldn't let you.”

“Is that so?”

“You didn't succeed the first time,” he grinned as he levered himself forward against the resistance of the other. The officer conceded after a moment, dropping back onto the bed with the other falling onto him. His grip on the man's hips shifted again, bucking up into him in quick succession, a delicious cry breaking from the surgeon. The cop sheathed himself in the man, rolling them both further on to the bed, giving one languid roll out and back into him before propping himself up with a satisfied leer at the other.

“ _Ass_ ets always come with liability, doctor.” He repeated the motion, the stark break of bliss that washed over his partner's expression filling him with an almost unfamiliar sensation—a very real satisfaction in watching his partner grow more and more euphoric. _'I guess we're just going to bend the rules a bit then.'_ He carried the rhythm through, shuddering at the ease of the glide into his partner, the man's body flexing and moving under him, lithe and amatory, hands smoothing fondly over the officer's chest. He leaned down, kissing at the man's collarbone while his pace sped up, an audible beat of skin on skin developing, carried by the mellifluous notes the cop drew from the doctor. _'Yes. You're mine. And I will use every opportunity I get to remind you.'_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's their third date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting a fair number of hits on this, so I guess I'll post more. This is several chapters before those that are up, but it's their third date, so hopefully it will help you get to know the characters a little better. Hope you all are enjoying. I haven't really proofread anything, so forgive the typos and whatnot. I'll post the second half of this chapter when I finish it. Thanks.
> 
> Also, it's implied in the other chapters, or mentioned, rather, but they are both of Italian descent and both speak Italian; Adrian is northern and Jamie is southern, and it's a charming point of contention for them--it comes up here, so I thought it would help precedent with some exposition.

“Seven.”

“Six.”

“Oh, eight.”

“Six.”

“Six?”

“Yeah, six.” the doctor said with drawling emphasis.

“No. Look at her face.”

“Yeah, I am. It's all makeup and she's skinny-fat. Heart disease in her forties.”

The officer huffed a noise of disbelief, taking another sip from his coffee. He looked down into the cup and swirled it slightly. It wasn't so much coffee anymore, but some milk and hazelnut flavor with coffee added, but it was well made and the smell was wonderful as it wafted up into the man's face. He stole a glance over to the doctor who hand his fingers delicately placed around the taupe porcelain mug, hunched slightly over it as his elbows rest on the counter top. His feet were perched on the rungs of the stool, and his gaze was set out the window, idly searching for more victims of their superficial value assignment, but there was a faint amusement beyond that, and the officer was suspecting he was genuinely enjoying their time out—probably more than he would admit.

“Oh,” he pointed a finger away from his cup, attention thoroughly drawn.

“Nine,” they said in unison, neither able to hide their smile as their eyes followed the man crossing the street away from them.

“Straight, though,” the doctor added, looking down into his cup.

“You think?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

The doctor gestured with a tip of his head, a woman meeting the man from down the street, throwing her arms around his neck as they shared a grin and quick kiss. “Nine for nine,” the officer mused, taking a sip from his drink.

“Yeah. She's cute.”

“Brunette your type?”

“Not fake and good shape is my type. She can hold herself up around his neck, and if she dyes her hair it's an amazing job.” The doctor also took a drink, licking the whipped cream from his top lip. “And she's just good looking,” he shrugged, looking over to the cop with a lofted brow, meeting the other's grin with a smile, and he looked back down into his cup with a slight blush. He was having a lot of fun and the cop could tell; no hope for rehardening his demeanor.

“How about her?”

“Oh, she's tall.”

“Yeah. Eight.”

“Six.”

“Don't like tall women?”

“No, I just don't like how gangly she is. And how straight her hair is. Eight? Do you particularly like tall women?”

“A lot of people are taller than me,” he said as he rolled his eyes. The doctor smirked at the window as he scanned for more people, watching the cars pull to the four way light.

The coffee shop was mostly quiet, the majority of people there invested in their own devices or books, but towards the far side sat a table of three older Italian men, speaking exclusively in their native language that the doctor and occasionally the officer were dropping in on. And both found the humor in how this coffee shop had quickly become the hot place for Italians to be, apparently, though there was no particular reason for them to all have gathered there on that day. They were regaling each other with stories of the old country, their wives, their children, and the like. How they couldn't find good perch here unless they went out and caught it, and how going out and catching it was an ordeal because by the time it was light enough to go out, the seals had usually moved in and scared them all off. They still had an hour until the movie started, but neither seemed particularly impatient. It was so unusual for either of them to have free time, let alone spend it with someone and enjoy it that they were both very fit to revel in each other's company.

 

The car pulled to a silent stop, the doctor looking around at the trees cast in the yellow glow of the street lights. “And they completely ignored the evolution phases of it. I mean, you can't have it just come out like that—it looked like Michigan J. Frog.”

“Who?”

“You know, the 'hello my baby, hello my darling' dancing cartoon frog.”

“From Warner Brothers?”

“Yeah.”

The doctor made a face at the man, inscrutable aside from the slight amusement. “That's a very esoteric reference.”

“You got it, didn't you?”

“Yes. And yeah, it was like that.”

“I mean, even when the deacon came out it was at least not hilarious. And that was a different evolutionary path.”

“Yes, they seem to be playing fast and loose with genetics.”

“It makes genetic sense of you're using horizontal gene transfer—at least for the old movies.”

The surgeon gave a sidelong glance to the man, slowly turning his head again to meet him. “What?”

“The old movies. You _have_ seen the other movies, right?”

“No, the other part.”

“Genetic sense?”

“No. In. The. _Middle_.” The surgeon gestured blocked sections with his hands on each word.

“Horizontal gene transfer?”

 

The blonde looked as if he blanched for a moment, the officer glancing out the windshield with an edge of discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

“Explain to me how it's like that.”

“Well, you have a host, right?” The doctor nodded, attention almost too focused on him, but he continued. “So, you have a host, human, dog, predator, whatever, but the face-huggers are all the same, activated the same, etcetera, and the xenomorphs all come out with characteristics of their host, even in larval form—wait—did the dog one come out as a dog? Did that one skip larval phases?”

“Gene transfer,” the doctor insisted.

“Right. So, that means that somewhere from implantation of the egg into the host, the egg has to assume some of the genetic characteristics of the host, you see what I mean?” His eyes darted up from his gestures to make sure the other man was paying attention, almost surprised to find him still very interested in what he was talking about. “That means, that the egg has to acquire some information, some form of determining the characteristics of its host, and the only way to do that that's not behavioral based, because its phenotypically expressed, is genotypically, which means it has to be reading, or, more likely, integrating information from the DNA of the host—ergo horizontal gene transfer. It's this thing that some microorganisms, I think just bacteria, on Earth do, so it's not really feasible as far as we know for Earth things, but that's also why it's fiction. I'm just saying, it's possible.” He looked up to the surgeon again, hoping he hadn't scared him away from any future dates, and his face showed it.

A grin slowly pulled at the corners of the doctor's mouth. “That's incredible. I'd like to hear more about it sometime.”

“Well, what are you doing now?”

“I should probably get home—I have work in the morning.”

“Why don't you come up for just a bit—I can regale you with all of my nerdy xenobiology. I'll even make you coffee.”

The doctor pursed his lips, knowing where this was actually leading, and he could feel the kick in his pulse, warning him. “Okay,” he smiled. “But I can't stay too long.”

“Great!” The officer practically jumped out of the car, beaming across to the other as he looked at him across the top of the vehicle. “Come on, I'll show you how to play the flute,” he offered with a sly smile. The doctor looked around as he locked the car, looking back to the officer who waited at the base of the porch. The man hurried up the stairs when the other reached the sidewalk, pulling out his keys and unlocking the door, holding it open as the doctor cautiously ascended his porch, trying to hide his apprehension. He looked over the threshold, into the lion's den, and passed the gatekeeper with drawn down eyes and a nervous smile. And the officer could feel the exhilaration crash over him behind that sweet and gentle smile he offered the surgeon, watching the way the the blonde took careful steps, distracted by unfamiliar territory. The door closed, bolt sliding into place, and the doctor gave a genial smile as the officer stepped up to him, hand running over the small of his back as he passed and continued down the hall, doctor trailing slowly.

 

The officer practically fell back into the couch just next to the other, reaching across him to grab his cup from the sidetable with a smile. His arm fell across the back of the couch, just behind the doctor, the man wryly eyeing his hand as it draped near his shoulder. “Not a fan of subtlety, are we?” he smirked, turning back to the other who feigned surprise as he took a sip from his mug.

“You're just hard for me not to touch. Poor impulse control, I guess,” he beamed, fingertips tracing over the doctor's neck. The surgeon bumped his knee against the other's with a gentle smile, and he felt silly for a moment—young and vulnerable. “So, what does the neurosurgeon think of my hypothesis?”

“I think it's very well thought out, especially considering the complete lack of information you have to work with. I mean, it's not like you actually have the ability to study this species—I don't even know if the creators thought it through as much as that.”

“Do you think it's possible?”

“Well, I don't think it's impossible, persay. I suppose it depends on how complex the egg is when it's implanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if it has to integrate some form of genetic material, it can't be too developed or it wouldn't be able to reproduce the cells in a way that is ordered specifically for that information... unless it mutates the genetic coding to act as a virus type material on itself. But that wouldn't really be reliable or safe for the organism. Maybe some kind of peptide...” He looked up to the officer again who was just watching him with a soft amusement. “But, again, it's hard to say,” he said quieter towards his cup, taking another sip. “My apologies; I don't mean to commandeer your hypothesis.”

“Not at all. I like watching you think. Together we could lead the way in xenomorph biology research—maybe make a few of our own.”

“I don't recall that ending well for anyone in the movies.”

“Well, we'll just have to do better. We can start with some horizontal gene transfer.”

“Cute. Been saving that one all night, have we?”

“Gotta start somewhere,” he grinned, leaning in to plant a kiss on the doctor's jaw.

“I'm not sure if I'm ready for a gruesome and excruciating death in the name of science.”

“Then maybe I'll just collect a sample,” he smirked as he drew his tongue over the doctor's jugular, feeling his pulse throb and the almost inaudible sound he made. He followed through the movement of leaning in, reaching across again to place his mug on the small table, carefully removing the doctor's as well from his guarded clutches with a cautious inhale from the man who was more or less attempting to hide his growing arousal. “Is this okay?” he said just above a whisper, eyes meeting the doctor's—feral and uncertain. The surgeon sucked his lower lip into his mouth briefly—nervous habit—and gave a nod. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, apprehension, self-consciousness, clawing lust, all bubbling up to the surface and culminating to this one impending spark of endorphins and oxytocin that was going to swiftly lead to fevered groping and sweat-coated skin rutting together and air-starved moans and blissful union. And the officer's lips pressed to his, kind and affectionate, shooting a hot bolt into the doctor's groin, heat blooming in a fire up him from where it struck, burning where the officer's hand pressed just below his jaw, a small possession in the form of comfort. Their lips parted in unison, sealing in a coffee and sugar flavored embrace of sensual strokes and saliva coated slides, a mimicry and allusion to their immediate future of writhing heat.

The doctor's knuckles brushed over the line of buttons down the officer's chest, middle and ring finger sneaking in between two and beneath the fold of soft cotton, tugging him ever so slightly closer, the officer's lips curled at the corners, a tentative moan spilling up from the doctor. The officer resealed their kiss, tipping the man's head up by the thumb under his jaw, mouth closing over his skin with suction and tongue. The doctor's fingers curled in his shirt with a stuttering sigh, shifting in his seat slightly and exposing his neck more.

The officer's hand laid gently and high on the other's thigh, the doctor's body jumping with a hitching breath. “Easy,” he soothed against the man's neck with another gentle kiss. His fingers stroked softly in their spot, just where the doctor's inner thigh began, the tension of the fabric and the man's flesh indicative of the erection he was either trying to hide or will away. He ran his thumb up farther, brushing over the tumescent flesh, a small noise escaping the other as he spread his legs just a little farther—good sign. He repeated the gesture, shifting to lean himself further over the man, tongue snaking down the part in his shirt, just under the tie knot, a tentative but firm hand closing around the cop's upper arm. It didn't resist or encourage—a place of stability—a buttress as his cathedral began to shake from its foundation. The officer lifted his hand, placing it over the from in the doctor's pants with an assertive squeeze, the man's chest pulling forward with a vocal gasp. The officer's other hand nabbed his shoulder in time to push him back against the couch, feeling the man's skin tighten as it goosebumped. “Whoa, whoa...” he said softly, feeling like he was trying to tame a wild horse. The doctor's body brimmed with nervous energy and years of untempered lust that vibrated him to his core, eyes bordering on panicked as he fought between bolting or submitting to being reined in. He took too long making his choice, the officer straddling his legs, one hand over the surgeon's heart as it pounded in his chest, the other formed against his neck just under his ear, guiding him into a docile kiss. The doctor reciprocated, tilting his head up, hand still on the other's arm just below his shoulder, other timidly coming to rest on the cop's thigh.

The officer slowly broke away from the other, sitting back and watching the other slowly open his eyes again, adrenaline quelled but lust clouding over. “There... not so bad, yeah?” the officer offered with a smile, thumb swiping mindlessly back and fourth along the strong edge of the blonde's jaw, the first break of stubble just catching along his thumbpad. The doctor gave the faintest head shake, feeling foolish in the inane gesture, sinking back into himself as the feeling grew—he was a neurosurgeon, not a fourteen-year-old, but his attraction was hindering his higher processing, and he had to chalk it up to the old adage of blood loss to the brain. A nimble finger had found its way just inside of the loop of his tie, tugging slightly with a “May I?” The doctor nodded shallowly, clearing his throat in an effort to redeem himself.

“Please...” The 'do' was implied in his tone, the officer smiling again with the hint of grin, trying desperately to hide the stark amusement of watching this man break down to basic impulse; he seemed so hardened, but if a single grope could elicit that kind of response he was certain he would be able to convince the illustrious doctor into some wonderfully hedonistic debauchery. Start with the basics, he supposed—don't want to actually frighten him away. He pulled the knot looser, working it open until it slid completely undone, stealing a glance to the doctor who was watching his hands. He reached forward, watching the man's adam's apple bob as he swallowed, fingers working each button open from the top down to his stomach. He dipped his hand into the part of that crisp, white shirt, hand trailing lightly up the man's body, still protected by his ribbed, a-frame undershirt, relishing the firmness of the flesh underneath, waiting, twitching, shying away and beckoning in.

“You're quite lovely,” the officer simpered, trying to quell the predatory instinct to ravage his momentarily tamed quarry. His hand skated over the man's collarbone, skin giving a peach glow in the warm light, soft and taut over bone and muscle. His thumb smoothed over the raises and grooves of the doctor's neck, eyes darting over to those hauntingly dark-pooled circlets of robin egg blue as they watched the officer grow enamored with his prey. And the officer felt himself try to swallow, those critically precise eyes deceptively lucid, lidded with a veil of trust that belied that roil of lust and urgency and fear and guilt.

“Thank you,” came the assured response, surprising the cop in its candor, but he could hear that faint tremble in his chest that carried in to his voice. The officer pulled his hand back, gaze fixed on the other as he lowered it, watching those tamped emotions begin to simmer. He placed it just over the shape of his restrained hardness, the doctor's swift intake of air making the officer smirk—that quickly collected facade just that—a mask for everyone else. And in the doctor's face he could see just the faintest bleed of pink into his cheeks, pressing his hand down firmer, watching those rose-blushed lips part silently, a throb in the flesh under his hand accompanying it. He moved his palm along the surgeon's groin, gaze holding the other's as it softened, pupils dilating in a swell with a stroke of his thumb along the length, a quieted noise spilling out of the man. The officer dropped his gaze to his hand, affirming the fullness and thickness under his hand, lips curling in a lopsided smile that he shared with the other. The cop's other hand settled on the doctor's belt, unfastening the leather with a conspicuous eagerness, but enough patience to make an effort to control himself. And to the doctor, this was his point of no return; letting the man do what he wanted with him, not because he felt he had to, but because he wanted him to—yearned for that loss of control, swept up in the power and sex of the other. It terrified and excited him to no end, and maybe this would finally be his chance to have what he wanted and have someone so willing give it to him—and give it to him the officer would. The long draw of smooth zipper drew both of their attention, the officer lifting his weight as both sets of fingertips dug between that soft and forbidden skin and the gentle elastic of his briefs, waiting, asking. The doctor closed his eyes and conceded, lifting his hips away from the couch enough for the other to nudge his clothes down far enough to be just on the edge of revealing him, trapping his achingly hard cock in tantalizing limbo. He sat back against the warmed fabric, the texture pleasant as he tried to focus on anything but the swift rise of heat over his chest, up his neck, and into his face.

They exchanged glances once more, the officer's one of enthusiasm, the doctor's of apprehension. His fingers followed the waistline they were still hidden under until they were each situated just at the dip of his hip to his groin. The officer pulled his lower lip between his teeth, eyes wild just before he guided the elastic away and down, the doctor's very firm cock brushing over his knuckles as it leapt free with a small gasp from its owner. There was a beat of tension between them before the officer's hand was wrapped around the base with an eager squeeze, drawing a stuttering and quieted moan from the doctor. “My, my, doctor—what could you possibly be ashamed of?” The officer gave a full length stroke up and back down, admiring the darker flush of the skin and the rise of blood vessels just under that supple and tight skin. The blonde surrendered a tender moan with the action, the cop's eye darting up only to affirm no resistance. His focus immediately fell back to his task in hand, following the slight upward curve of the shaft to the blushed pink of the head that matched the man's lips. He pressed his thumb up along the underside of the doctor's cock, pad rolling over the darker section of frenulum, a sharp twitch of the man's hips and startled noise making the officer grin. He pressed his free hand to the doctor's shoulder, insisting him flush against the back of the couch, sliding his hand up and back down in shallow movements. The doctor's hands settled on the cop's thighs, squeezing in response to stimulation, trying to better control his vocal impulses. “Are you sure this isn't your first time?” the officer teased, increasing the pressure momentarily.

The doctor almost gave him an incredulous look, opting for wry instead. “Would you enjoy that?”

“No, I think I prefer this 'experimented before but socially repressed' flavor—it's volatile, but the experience gives you just enough confidence to be cocky.”

“Am I so transparent?” he sighed, gaze lifting from the consistent rise and fall of the man's hand.

“S'my job,” he shrugged, but the truth was more complicated than that. He knew the surgeon's type as soon as he laid eyes on him—reckless, steeled, molded from his youth to what society expects from him, falling into place only when necessary and convenient, which eventually consumed him. His looks would have gained him more ridicule than professed adoration, the rhetoric of homophobia burrowing deep in to his subconscious—not that he wasn't particularly masculine looking, but his softer features would have to have been countered by his affect. And the culmination of stress from sleepless hours of school into tireless hours of work would have completely eliminated the potential for intimacy—a raw stone of carnality. Perfect.

The surgeon hummed as he dropped his head back to the top of the couch, breath hitching at a particular pass—the gentle surrender. The blonde's hips rolled gently into the motion, the officer watching the way his body moved under that bright white fabric, vulgar in its restrained undulation, a taunting boast of how he would move under him or seated on his lap. The officer closed his eyes for a moment of restraint, imagining the way that tightly wound doctor would loosen in his grasp, melt because he would have to in order to accommodate the officer as he pushed up into him, that wet and fevered mouth forming a pillowy 'O' as he moaned his name in velvet tongues. How the insatiable fever of his body would beg the officer for more, to which he would gladly oblige. His cock throbbed against the unforgiving grip of his jeans, craving to be buried in that gripping heat. The deep swell of a low groan drew his attention, the doctor's hand closed around the forearm extending out from his collarbone, gripping tight as he thrust shallowly into the other's hand. And the officer wondered what he would sound like riding him, what he would look like—those pretty clothes rumpled and dampened by sweat, halfway off because he couldn't be bothered and didn't have the patience. And how he wanted to hear those sultry notes from that gentled voice—maybe next time.

The cop could feel the tense tremble in the other's length, licking his lips as the other moaned louder than he intended, indicated in the way he tensed after, a shot of red staining his cheekbones darker. The officer leaned forward, lips finding exposed neck, sucking blush colored pucks across the salt laced skin. He could feel the man's pulse race hot under his tongue, almost biting him when a slender-fingered hand articulated around the bulge in his jean-front. The officer's heart skipped a beat, stifling a groan against the man's neck as he rocked into the touch, hand stuttering against the other. He felt a chill run down him at the “Oh, God, Jamie...” that filled the room, fingers tight on his arm and between his legs as the blonde came into the man's hand, the suddenly slick sound of his continued thrusts and the grip that matched causing a sting of hot arousal in each. The doctor sighed a shuddering half-moan into the man's hair, cantering slowing and grip loosening until he relaxed back into the couch altogether. He ran his hand once more over the shape of the officer's cock straining under the denim, heart leaping once more. The officer's hand ran idly over the slick and barely softened shaft of the doctor, smiling against his collarbone.

The surgeon swallowed, taking in a deep breath of the other's scent, musky and dark and faintly like a specific cologne he knows he has smelled before. “I'm sorry, that doesn't usually happen.”

“Enjoying yourself?” he smirked between pecks against the seam of the undershirt. He could feel the man's countenance harden for a moment, the officer huffing a laugh in response.

And the surgeon was only annoyed because the man was right—he seemed to be lacking something significant in his life, but he had spent so much time and money trying to fulfill it otherwise he had almost completely ruled out intimate touch as an option. Mostly because people couldn't see past the neurosurgeon part. “I meant how quickly it escalated. “

“It's fine,” he responded with apt amusement, “just watching you almost made me cream my self.”

“Is that so?” the doctor said lowly against the man's ear, thumb pressed up under the solid flesh, other hand stroking up and down the man's arm.

“Eager little horndog, huh?” the cop beamed with a lilt in his voice at the end. The doctor felt his face grow hot, minding himself and withdrawing his hand from the other's lap. And there was the other reason for the demise of past relationships. He felt that cold tension of self-admonishment grip his chest, thawed by the hand that closed around his wrist before he could apologize. “I like it,” came the husky purr against his jaw, hand guiding his back over the heat of the cop's groin. The officer's thumb ran firm up the underside of the slick length, earning a pitched up 'ooh' that seemed to surprise both of them. The doctor wasn't given much chance to retreat into hiding, lust burning down any barricades he tried to erect, as well as an unfamiliar feeling that this man stoked in him. “So, my little panna cotta,” he smiled as he leaned back, tightening his grip as he stroked the other, “since your appetite doesn't seem to have subsided...” His other hand trailed down over the doctor's chest and in to the part of his shirt again. “what else can I offer you?”

The doctor's tongue ran over his lips, gaze lifting to the other's. “Perhaps, I could instead be your little cannolo.” He turned his hand, fingers sliding under the bulge of the man's pants to fully grope him.

“Naughty boy... you must really want it to lower yourself to being Sicilian for a night.”

“Some things are simply worth the price of pride and honor.”

“I hope I'm worth it then.”

“I'm here, aren't I?”

They exchanged catty glances before the officer's eyes widened, finding himself scrambling for balance and purchase as the doctor rolled him to the couch. The blonde slithered down to the floor, on his knees and soon between the officer's. “And you're stronger than you look,” the officer breathed, quickly gathering his bearings as not to miss the first and hopefully not the last time he would see this man before him like this.

“Does that intimidate you, _officer_?” The languid tone over the last word matched long fingers that crept slowly up the insides of the cop's thighs, ghosting over the now very patent erection the man was sporting, and settling on his belt buckle.

“It turns me on, that's for sure.” He exhaled hard as those hands made swift work of his belt and fly.

“Then, allow me to remedy your affliction.” He urged the man's clothes down, the officer picking up his hips briefly. The doctor's eyes were keen in the low light, excited, and feral, all disarmed by the small gasp he tried to hide when he revealed the thick length of the officer, a flash of doey innocence gleaming over his eyes that made the cop have to fight a wicked grin—he lost. The surgeon's nimble hand closed around the base, earning a pulse that made the doctor's lips part just slightly. He was so delightfully hard, and thick—so thick, and easily seven inches. “Well,” he began quietly, clearing his throat, “at least the rumors are true, so I suppose the south has that going for it.” He could see the officer's tongue push against his cheek, the surgeon just giving him a coy smile and a quirk of the eyebrow.

“You know, you still owe me two more exclamations of my name to the sound of your ecstasy, and seeing as how you're about to have your mouth full, you might want to play nice since I'll have to be extracting them through other means.”

“You don't scare me, officer.”

“Is that so? We'll see if you change your tune when you're on your back.”

The doctor gave an acknowledging loft of eyebrows, leaning forward, tongue sliding out with a curl at the tip.

He could feel his brow twitch as a palm pressed against his forehead. “Easy there, Tiger, lets take the medically sound approach to this.”

“Seems inconsequential, all things considered.”

“I... I mean, you're the doctor.”

“I don't think it's necessary—I haven't in much longer than I'd care to say and been cleared, as have you. Besides, can't I trust you to keep me safe?” The gentling upturn of his tone towards the end preceded a too sweet smile, tongue drawing up the cop's length, base to tip.

“Dammit,” he breathed, heart pounding in his chest as his eyes stayed fixed to the man and the pink flashes of tongue that would occasionally peek out from either side of his cock. The doctor shifted in his seat, tucking himself back into his briefs, wiping the tacky residue over them before replacing his other hand at the base of the other's eager and pulsing manhood. He spread his other hand over the man's hip, pushing his shirts up with his thumb as he placed his lips just over the head. He glanced up to the other and his pupil-blown eyes, hands already halfway through with unbuttoning his shirt. The doctor smiled, lips parting over the flesh in one deep swallow, taking him as far down as he could manage. “O-oh, my god,” the cop nearly moaned, hand suddenly against the back of the blonde's head, working fingers through sections of hair. The doctor gagged slightly, sliding back up the length and back down, tongue pressing firmly along the bottom, tracing along the ridge of the glans on each pass.

 


	4. Third Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of when they meet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I havent added anything to this in a while and there was some recent activity, so I thought I'd share. This is technically their third encounter, ish, but, well, you'll see. I'm sorry to report no sex in this one. I hope you all enjoy plot and character development. Thanks for reading!

“Hi there. I'm looking for a surgeon who works here, a neurosurgeon. I think he operated on Venturez—the through-and-through bullet-to-the-head patient that was in here a couple of days ago.”

The desk nurse looked thoughtful before she smiled. “That was probably Dr. Pavoni—if you need information about the patient, though, there's probably not much we can give you without a warrant.”

“Probably? How many neurosurgeons do you have?”

“Two,” she smirked as he seemed uninterested in any of the information he should care about. “But he's the one we stole for ER support for the last few weeks.”

“He was blonde-ish. Little taller than me. Diffident and aloof because of it. Pretty.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” she smiled with a purse to her lips. 

“What was the name?”

“Pavoni, but he's not in the habit of taking visitors,” she warned. He gave her a too big smile, before she gestured with a glance. “Here's your chance,” she almost smirked, knowingly, like she was looking forward to watching him crash and burn. The officer turned back, the doctor crossing the far end of the hall in teal scrubs and a white lab coat with someone similarly dressed in tow. His steps were firm, but not particularly fast or slow—commanding. He was master in this domain, and his gait and demeanor was sure to let anyone who would question otherwise know that he was the shark here, the tiger, the solitary apex predator. And he wondered if the doctor even saw the officer as a threat. 

He quickened in his step as he pursued the man, just steps behind him now and without even a glance from him, or one that he would notice, but the doctor was very aware of his presence and certainly recognized him. How could he not after his last two encounters—the man was certainly worth drawing his attention, but it was business as usual and he had no interest in chasing down a flame that would turn to ashes before he even had the chance to burn himself.

“Dr. Pavoni, I'd like to have a word with you,” the cop spoke as he followed, shadowing the man and meeting the gaze of the other surgeon at the blonde's side as he turned back.

“If you need a consultation, you'll have to get a referral from your primary,” he quipped, not hesitating in his step.

“Cute, but no, I would like to talk to you about the Venturez case.”

The surgeon threw him a scrutinizing glance over his shoulder, eyes tracing down to the dull shine of the officer's work boots back up to his gaze, and the doctor's eyes were piercing, as if unraveling the man as they scanned over him, a hard expression set over his otherwise pleasant features. The cop could swear he would have sneered had the thought crossed his mind, but instead he turned to face him, taking in a breath as he tilted his head back and dragged his nails along the underside of his jaw and down his neck in a slow scratch. “Any information you need about the patient is with the nurses—I'm not sure what you hope you obtain from me.” He paced a few feet back towards a closed curtain.

' _ You're number would be a good start, _ ' the officer thought with an equally inward smirk. “I know—he's not conscious yet,” he reminded, following as the man drifted away from him.

“Well, the man did take a bullet to, or through, the head—he really shouldn't be alive,” he droned, accepting the chart that was handed to him by the passing nurse, letting it fall open in one hand while the other pulled the pen from his coat pocket. The other doctor took his leave with a shared look between the two, pacing down the rest of the hallway.

“Right, well, we'll need the report on the damage so we can better approximate the bullet caliber.”

The surgeon scoffed a laugh as he penned something into the file. “Don't presume to mislead me, officer—I already sent my report to your office.”

“Yes, but your report didn't cover the hemorrhagic complications that would arise from large caliber trauma.”

The doctor glanced up, eyes fiery as they met the other's. They narrowed slightly, in curiosity, skepticism, and mild contempt. “I omit certain information from reports to your department that are not pertinent to your investigation, and I've been asked to before.”

“Why is that?”

“I would assume because of the average reading level of most of your colleagues. Besides, those implications are  _ implied _ , and we don't know the extent of his damage yet because, as you observed, he isn't conscious. And, considering he's alive, and as far as liability goes, it wasn't a derringer, but it wasn't a forty-five, or a rifle. What's your standard issue? Nine millimeter? At close range that would have taken off half of his head, so, unofficially, I wouldn't worry. But I'm not an investigator, now am I? And from the looks of it, neither are you.” He lifted his gaze again, a slight quirk to his eyebrow. “So, officer, unless you're going to detain me for further questioning, you'll have to excuse me.” 

The cop felt his heart skip at the prospect, a distinct heat rushing up him, but before he could speak, the doctor was gone behind the curtain. He looked back to the nurses' station, the brunette behind the counter giving him a wry smile before looking back down at something on the desk—probably nothing. The officer pursed his lips, looking down as he rocked his foot back and fourth on the edge of his heel. He smiled as his mind wandered for a moment—detention, hm? Yes, he imagined the doctor would look quite good with his hands behind his back, unable to fix his hair as it fell out of place. Maybe he would be panting softly because the officer would have him up against the wall, weight and heat holding him, and maybe the officer's fingers would play deftly over that lithe body and around his—. He looked up to the sound of a crash cart rolling through the hallway, in no particular hurry, but he realized that maybe he should go cool off in the bathroom before he tried this again. He took in a breath and looked up to the nurses station again to find his makeshift wing-gal otherwise occupied. He wandered down the hall and around the corner towards the exit, pushing through the door and relieved to find it empty. He palmed himself through his pants, trying to will away the hot strain of his erection, stepping up to the sink and turning the water on. He splashed some over his face, staring down into the sinkbowl and letting the water run back off his face. He ran a wet hand around the back of his neck, sighing as he looked up to his reflection—this was stupid. ' _ Just ask him out—he can see through your pussyfooting. Treat him like a person. He's just a man. _ ' He closed his eyes for a moment, walking over and grabbing a paper towel, patting his face and neck dry. He leaned against the wall and his nose flinched, finally noticing the acrid smell of cleaning product. The door opened and he levered himself off the wall, nodding to the man who came in and gave him a startled look. He held the door open and the cop thanked him as he left. ' _ Okay, the worst he can say is no. Steel yourself. _ ' He turned the corner, the doctor relatively where he last saw him, writing in a file that was now opened on a small, stainless-steel table of sorts. The brunette nurse from the desk was next to him, pointing to something in the file. Her eyes darted up to the officer as he made his way down the corridor. She hid a smile from the surgeon, saying something else before she left his side, approaching the cop. She stopped in front of him and he stopped as well. ' _ Here to tell me to 'fuck off' for him? _ ' But she spoke before he could, smirk more evident.

“Back to slay the dragon?” she said under her breath. “I hope you've tempered your shield and sword.”

“That good, huh?” 

“Maybe try when he hasn't been in ER all day.”

“Already here. Not like he actually breathes fire.”

She lofted her eyebrows with a tilt of the head and a tight purse of her lips before parting from him. He resettled his gaze on the man who was still staring down at the file, approaching the doctor with a firmness in his step—unease. 

“This blood report wasn't done correctly. The hem—oh. It's you,” he noted with less disappointment than the officer expected. “Where is my nurse?”

“I don't know,” he responded, looking back for her to find nothing.

“Hopefully to get the correct panel,” he mused back toward the file. There was a few beats between them, the officer resisting the urge to peek into the file to see what he was working on, but he knew better, at least in that regard. 

“Pavoni... that's Italian, isn't it?” the officer offered, a brightness to his voice that he hoped would be contagious. 

The blonde took in a deep breath, almost physically tensing. “Non mi parli di italiano se non parli a me in italiano,” he spoke clearly as he stared down at the patient record, pausing before writing something in English. 

“Ravioli, crossini, Pavarotti, tortellini...”

The surgeon glanced up with a cross look, closing the file and running his hand through his hair to restyle it and find a moment of patience. “What do you want?”

“How about coffee and a biscotto?”

The doctor's expression was just short of startled, and it made the cop smile, almost smirk, but he hid it. Did the officer know Italian? And coffee? Like a... “Like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date. A meno che non vorresti fare altra cosa( _ Unless you'd like to do something else _ ).” His tone was suggestive at best, but the other language lent itself to be much more salacious, even if he didn't mean to come across that strongly—he did.

The doctor felt annoyance bubble up, but it was attributed more to the flush of heat he felt hit his cheeks and the knowing way the officer's dark amber eyes caught his gaze. He pursed his lips, trying to quickly weigh his options, not finding many that suggested this was a bad idea. He looked off and glanced around, finally settling with “Fine.” He didn't mean to sound as resigned as he did, but it didn't seem to put the other off too much. “I imagine I'll be leaving in an hour or so. What time do you get off?”

“Around the third time you've screamed my name,” the cop answered with surprising nonchalance, though, to the relief of the doctor, quieter than any of their previous conversation. He could have easily responded in Italian, but he wanted to see how the doctor would react knowing anyone could have heard him if they tried. 

And his reaction surprised the officer, offering a small laugh with the splash of blush across his face. “I hope for your sake that it not the zenith of your wit, Officer...” His eyes darted to the name embroidered on the patch across his chest. “Borriello.” A faint twitch at the corners of his lips and up into a wrinkle near his nose preceded his next statement, trying to sound more coy than curious. “A southerner...”

“I'm sorry—should I have kissed your boots first?” he asked backhandedly, an amused ring in his voice dampening the potential incredulousness that formed in that back of his tone.

He smirked with a huff. “No, no... you can save that for after coffee,” he said almost distantly as he flipped back through the patient record, eyes averted down. 

The officer quirked an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he ran his tongue thoughtfully over the exposed line of his top row of his teeth as he grinned with a sense of disbelief. Rather, he was trying to think of a snappy comeback, but his mind had already launched itself full speed down the dark corridor of fantasizing about every way he could break this man down to a whimpering, begging, and cum-coated mess. Oral first—sixty-nine? Sure. Maybe the doctor was a cock-hungry one and he'd just impose himself on the officer, press him against the wall and take him down his throat until he gagged, officer shooting down his throat. Was he a top or bottom? Probably a top knowing his luck, so maybe he'd have to fight him for it—not such a terrible option. Could he be a bottom? No. There's no way that man would let anyone take him like that. Maybe he could turn him in to one—a deliciously submissive and receptive vessel of pleasure and indulgence. 

“Officer.” The sound of the doctor's firmer tone brought him back, giving his head a slight shake as he focused back on the other, the intense stare of those eyes drawing his focus as they peered up at him from under a lofted brow. And how he already loved the way the word rolled off his tongue, the very slightest inklings of his accent rounding the vowels.

“Hm?”

“I asked you what time you would like to meet.”

“Right. My shift ends at eight—I guess that's probably a little late for coffee. You probably get here pretty early.”

“Yes, I have an early morning—how about Thursday? I have Friday off so far.”

“Thursday is great—I have Fridays off too, actually.”

“Then how about Friday morning instead?”

“Sure, also great,” the cop beamed, taking his wallet out and pulling out a business card before scribbling his cell number and 'coffee' on the back. He handed it to the man who hesitated before taking it, realizing that it just looked like he was writing case information down for the doctor—though why he would personally be taking it is unusual.. He looked the number over before turning it over to the embossed ink print on the other side. 

“Jamie,” he mused speculatively. “Or do you prefer Officer Borriello?” he asked with a sly ring to the syllables and linguistic flair that made the cop's skin goosebump slightly, the doctor's eyes catching the tense rise of hair on the man's arms. 

“Whichever you like... whatever comes to mind in the heat of the moment.”

“I think our experiences with coffee may differ slightly.”

“Well, it's the biscotto part that really gets wild.”


End file.
